Mortality's Sheep
by Onyxx-09
Summary: "...had died." Pietro glances up as the words hit him. He tries to focus on the man's lips but only heard ringing in his ears. It wasn't supposed to end like this. If anything, he was supposed to die first—she had promised that. SHE PROMISED. And now she's gone. "I'm sorry," the man spoke the words that always made things worse. Peter/OC. Oneshot.


"…..has died."

Pietro glances up as the words hit him. He tries to focus on the man's lips and read what he was saying, but he didn't listen. He didn't hear. There was just a high pitched ringing sound in his ears and watching the man slowly mouth two words that _always_ made situations worse:

_"I'm sorry."_

He has a small frown on his face. Pietro balls his fists and he could feel himself shaking. No, he thought, no, it can't happen; it wasn't supposed to happen this way. He tried so hard to focus on the man's words but couldn't, and he felt a burning, hot emotion bubbling up inside him. The frown on his face deepened.

"It happened a few days ago…"

"…..lost too much blood…."

"…..did all they could…."

None of it reached him; it just went in one ear and out the other. Only bits and pieces.

And the way the silver-haired man was glowering him was beginning to make him very nervous. The man moved his hands to his pockets. A heavy, hollow silence filled the room once he finished speaking.

Pietro didn't look away from the man's eye. The silence persisted until the man began worrying how long it would last—he was afraid to move in fear he would be lashed out upon. It continued until the mutant finally spoke.

"You'relying." The words mushed together out of emotion. His chest clenched and his voice, though heavy, shook tremendously. "You'relying. Rainyisn'tdead. Shewouldn'tdie, shewouldn'tleave,shecan'tbedead." He suddenly sucked in a breath, trying to remain calm and keep his breathing steady.

_"You're vibrating again," _she would have told him, _"calm down."_

He can feel his breath quickening and knew that a panic attack is creeping into his system.

She was fine; she had been okay, she had said so herself. She promised. _She promised_. _He_ was supposed to die first; _he_ was supposed to protect her. She looked just the same a month ago when he last saw her. If she weren't, she wouldn't have been smiling...

She was fine. She _is_ fine. She is fine. She's fine. She's fine. She's fine. She's fine. She's fine…

He doesn't even waste a minute before he steps in the man's face. The look Pietro wore made the man fear he would be ripped limb from limb.

Pietro's voice uneven as he growls: "Where. Is she."

From his proximity, the man could see tears brimming in the opposite's dark brown eyes. His body blurs, shaking at a higher speed the man's eyes couldn't focus on.

This man still didn't want to believe..

But before he could even open his mouth, the silver-haired one vanished. And the man was left replaying everything of what just happened.

Pietro races back leaving the front door swinging open. He bursts into every room, doors banging off the walls and his voice echoing abandoned bedrooms, sounding only after he left. He ran blindly, calling, into each room. The living room. The game room. Her bedroom. Kitchen. Dining room. The study. The library.

Nope. No. No, no, no, no, no. Nowhere.

He gasps, the world passing by in blurs.

The nightie she wore nights before still lay on the bed sheets, the closet left open and dresser slightly cluttered with books.

"RAINY!"

He calls for her to come out—maybe she was hiding, studying? He screams.

No one answers.

Had she been clumsy, and punctured herself? Had a ruptured wound? No. No, she wasn't that careless; she would have ran for the phone as soon as it happened, knowing she would have bled out on the floor in minutes.

He screams.

Pietro ran. No one answered. He finally stopped once coming to his own bedroom. No body under his sheets or waiting in his closet.

He finally stops in the middle of his room, facing the window. He must have scaled the place at least twice. His breath is coming out rapidly from his strained heart. His hands in fists and his chest feeling like it was twisting into as complicated knot.

No one had answered him.

**. . . **

He was found still in the same position not much later by Ororo Munroe. She had known about the girl's death, but too, had found out only later.

At first, residents didn't know how doors that had been thought closed were suddenly opening, until someone caught a grey streak going by. With the persuasion from Charles and Jean, Ororo went searching for the speedster throughout the mansion until coming to his bedroom. (She was the most motherly out of them all, after all.) The door was left open like the others, so she needn't not knock.

He stood in the middle of the room completely silent and completely still, and it unnerved the former queen.

"Pietro…?" She called warily.

He didn't answer and Ororo was left to stare at his back. She dared to take a step into the room. She called him again.

Still no answer.

Little bit by little bit, she inched into the room until she was a few feet away when he suddenly slumped over. She watched silently as he slumped to his knees, breathing rapidly.

He didn't register that she was there.

He and Rainy had known each other for _years_, even though they didn't start off pleasant, she had helped him. She was one of the first people who looked at him instead of his abilities. And now she was gone.

And he hadn't even known.

Ororo came up beside him. He stared at the carpet, silent once more with a blank look about his features and legs crossed in front of him. What shocked her was that he hadn't even cracked a tear over the girl's death.

Ororo didn't say anything, knowing he could become anger-prone, and worried that if she did, it wouldn't go over well.

For what felt like minutes, they just sat in silence. No words were needed; the heaviness in the air was enough. It wasn't until she laid a hand on his shoulders was the silence broken: Ororo looked over hearing a sob and watched in barely shielded surprise as Pietro broke down in front of her. First came the one, two loud sobs. He leaned over his knees, wrapped his arms around himself, and cried.

Bawled.

At first, she didn't know what to do and was frozen there. Here was this proud, audacious, arrogant man bawling just below a yell, folded into himself like a small fragile child. She was so used to him spewing sarcastic remarks that she would forget just how much he had to bare: watching many he knew die; growing up very poor, feeling responsible for his sister, and his mother troubling to make ends meet; shunned at school; and on top of that, his mutation. Then it came to Ororo—he was still so young.

And she many years older

She knew how close the two had been, even though neither would ever admit it. She knew how much Rainy had admired him, how much she _liked_ him.

Rainy was all he had for so long

There is a period of time Ororo sits and waits patiently, undisterbing his wails that pierce her ears. It is only paused by her hand running up and down his back.

His breaths start coming out short and quick. And Ororo doesn't notice until hearing him choke on himself.

He was having trouble breathing

She sees this and calls his name. "Pietro...?"

The world was spinning to him and hears the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn't move, he couldn't think, and all he could feel is his heart aching, stuttering in his ribcage. A weight presses against his chest, he can't breathe and begins to shake.

"_Pietro_...?"

He hears her but isn't able to form any thoughts. He shakes his head, tears still falling and body vibrating more violently. It isn't until he feels her hands on his cheeks does he register her voice directed at him. He sees her lips move but no sound reaches his ears, just that high-pitched ringing noise again.

Where is he again? What was this?

His eyes are blinking, searching the room and Ororo tries to direct his sight to her. It works after several failed attempts. She knows that if he doesn't regain himself he could pass out, or suffocate on his own saliva at the speed he was breathing, or worse.

His brain is twisting, searching for something, _anything_ to focus onto. Ororo turns his face to look at her, and for a moment, the hands on his cheeks belonged to the girl he once knew.

Just like Rainy had done before

_Where is the oxygen?_

"Pietro! Pietro, look at me!"

He sobs loudly.

"Here, focus on me, focus on me. Now, slowly. Breathe, breathe. In, out, deep breaths; again in, out." She motions the method with her hand moving up and down, encouraging. And after some difficulty he follows, slowly at first, until he comes back down.

Tears still roll off his nose in streams.

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, bringing him close. And just as a small child, he gripped her resting arm close, curling into her side. His crying didn't subside.

"It isn't your fault," she reassures.

No matter how many times Rainy told him not to and that she was well, he still wanted to keep watch over her; he still worried about her.

"She passed without anyone's knowledge; she wasn't even at the mansion when it happened. So none of it was. It could never be. So, don't think it to be."

Pietro shook his head rapidly. He blubbered between deep breaths. "Ifailedher….I-I…" She was gone.

_"And I couldn't save her."_

Ororo ran her hand down his bright hair. He had trimmed it shorter just a year ago. "No; you can't save everyone," is what she wanted to say but decided against. Instead, she repeated, "it wasn't your fault, none of it is. Don't worry."

He bawls loudly. His face was red now.

He cried for what felt liked hours. He cried and cried and called until his head hurt and he could barely see. When she felt his shoulders' shaking slow, she spoke.

"Pietro… Pietro," she pried his grip from her sleeve and forces him to look at her.

His were bloodshot. He sniffed, letting a few loose tears fall.

The sight was drastically different than his normally curious and carefree attitude.

He looked pitiful.

"Hey," she took his face in her hands, "look at me, l…look at me. Now what would Rainy say if she saw you like this?"

His lip quivered before he let out another wail, calling the name of the deceased one he loved.

Ororo forced him to look her back in the eyes once more. "Pietro, answer me. Now, what would she say?"

He didn't answer and just sniffed.

"What would she say," she pressed. She knew that the girl had had a strong personality and thus hoped this would help jog some sense into him.

Pietro's face twisted for another bout of tears.

"What would she say?"

Pietro choked, shrugged. "That… …that…" Words jumbled together at a speed she couldn't understand.

"Take a breath, speak slower."

_"Why are you crying?" _the girl would stand in front of him._ "Is it a matter that is reversible or controllable? Because otherwise than to make yourself feel better, extending that period is you're just wasting your tears."_

He gasps. "To suck it up," he answers. His voice shook.

Ororo forced down a smile. She could imagine the girl saying those exact words all too well.

Pietro continued, his voice cracking and still unsteady. "Sh-she'd say that if it's something…out of your...control, to not dwell on it. That it's fine to scream, but…"

"But what?"

He didn't answer.

Ororo knew what she would and finished for him: "but at the end of the day, nothing is definite, right?"

The lump in his throat grows worse and he struggles to swallow it down. "So to cry would be more or less useless if it extends the use for self console," he continued, sounding more normal. He laughed bitterly. "She'd say that I was being infantile and fatuous." After being with her for so many years, he's picked up on big words he would have never used otherwise.

Crying over spilled milk

Ororo rubs his head, feeling him calming. He was still gasping like a small child, but was better, much better.

Pause. Quiet.

"She'd probably kick my butt if she saw me."

Ororo looked over. The lines etched on his face from battle and experience just made his small, bitter smile that much painful to see, regardless the irony.

"Probably," she agreed. "Or hold you, like this."

He turned his stained face back to her yellow sweater. His lips moved, speaking words too low for her to hear.

"Or that."

Pietro breathed. The room quiet once more. He sat up, wiped his face on his sleeve and murmurs an apology. Though Ororo told him there was no need, he shrugged as if brushing it off.

SILENCE.

_"Pietro, when I die, would you feel sorrowful for my dead corpse," Rainy asked, pulling down her jean shorts. The question was random. She had only touched on the subject once before._

_He sat on the other side of the room at the end of his bed, back turned to her as she changed. "What kind of question is that?"_

_"What would you do?"_

_"Can we not take about death?" he pressed. She could tell he was beginning to grow frustrated by his tone._

_"Should I wear a white shirt or a white dress? I feel the need to have an appearance of purity."_

_Pietro scoffed to himself. "Whatever. Just hurry up so I can turn around. I'm ready to go."_

_She frowned for a moment. "So what would it be," she returned to the question before. "Would you be there at my funeral or would you be off spending all the money I would leave you?"_

_"You don't even have that much money."_

_"And how would you know that?"_

_"Trust me, I know. You don't want to find out how, but I know."_

_She pursed her lips. Knowing him, he would have read her bank statements once._

_"But to tell you the truth, I'd probably cry. And like some big baby."_

_There was a pause as she threw on clothes. Then, her tone hard: "Don't. Don't cry for me. Especially that of all things to do. I don't want to hear that anyone cried over me. So don't do it, understand?"_

_He moved to turn around but caught himself. "How would you even know that if it was AFTERWARDS? Besides isn't that what you're supposed to do?"_

_"It doesn't matter what the mainstream believes what should be the right thing to do or not; they can be screwed for what little care they are given. Just don't do it. Understand," she ordered. "Promise me that."_

_"I don't think that's something you can ask someone to promise."_

_"If I don't ask you anything else or if we don't hold on to any other one, promise me."_

_He felt his bed dip as she came up to kneel behind him and her hands slide to encircle his neck. Her chest pressed against his back and he saw that she wore a blue sundress almost the same shade as his shirt. She nuzzles her cheek into his neck. They were in his bedroom at the mansion, facing the open window._

IN HIS BEDROOM

Pietro rested his head on the Ororo's shoulder. His tears had stopped; eyes still red. The sun was beginning to set outside the window, bathing the room in warm oranges and yellows.

_"There's just one regret: that I never told her just how much I was thankful, how much I actually cared for her."_

* * *

**He wants to tell her  
****that wherever she is,  
****no matter what has happened,  
****no matter what had been done,  
****or for however far away.  
****And so, when she doesn't respond,  
****He knows she's used up all her words,  
****so she slowly whispers _No regrets  
_****_I will always love you_**

* * *

Review for this oneshot?


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